Semua Bab Their Replacement Bride Wants Blood: Bab 11 - Bab 16

The elevator doors slammed shut behind them.The penthouse was silent. Suffocating.Nikolai sat in the center of the room. On a black leather sofa. His face hidden in shadow. A Cuban cigar burned in his hand.He didn't even glance at these reeking strays from the slums. Like looking at them would dirty his eyes."Pakhan!" My father fell to his knees, slamming his head on the carpet. Again and again.His forehead was already bloody. His voice was a pathetic, fawning wreck.My mother dragged Julian, with his broken legs, to the floor beside him. They bowed like a metronome.Isla lay on the floor, barely clothed. Shivering. Her hands covering her chest. She didn't dare look up at the man they called a monster."Pakhan, please, have mercy, just listen to me!"My father looked up, his face a grotesque mask of a smile. He pointed at Isla.Pimping out his own daughter."The substitute we sent before was worthless. Aurora, she's stubborn, dirty, and hard. She must have offended you. Dumped her

A flicker of bloodlust lit up Nikolai's gray-blue eyes.He sneered. His finger tightened on the trigger."Wait."I reached out. Tapped Nikolai's muscular arm.The sound of metal stopped at the last second.Nikolai turned to me, his eyes questioning."Kill them? A bullet is too quick. Death is a mercy."Nikolai chuckled.He pulled the gun from Julian's bloody mouth. Wiped the blood on Julian's expensive suit.Julian collapsed to the floor, coughing violently. Like a fish out of water.He looked at me. A ridiculous flicker of hope in his eyes.He thought I'd gone soft.I turned away.Took a piece of paper from a black folder held by one of the guards.It was the blood contract my father had signed a few days ago. The one where he gave me up, smearing his blood across the signature line without hesitation. All for money.I walked over to them.Slap!I threw the paper in my father's face.The sharp edge cut his cheek, leaving a bright red line. Blood welled up, dripping onto the white pape

One month later.Moscow, Russia. The Cathedral of Christ the Saviour.The deep, solemn bells of Moscow's oldest and grandest Orthodox cathedral rang out, shattering the falling snow.This wasn't just a wedding.It was a coronation.I stood behind the cathedral's heavy bronze doors. I listened coldly to the murmurs outside, the hum of helicopter blades.A month ago, in the New York rain, Julian had offered me a secret, shameful wedding.He thought I deserved to be hidden in the shadows.Nikolai had crushed that idea to dust.He would not let me be slighted.He booked the entire cathedral. The highest symbol of Russian faith.He wanted the whole world to watch as I ascended to the pinnacle of the underworld.Today, the heads of over a hundred of the world's top crime syndicates had flown to Moscow.The dons of the Sicilian Cosa Nostra. The chiefs of the Irish Mob. The Colombian drug lords.These ruthless men, who killed without blinking in their own territories, now sat quietly in the pe